


Special Occasion Shoes- A Deancas Wedding Ficlet

by joplin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, cowboy boots, justbeingnyfics, the roadhouse wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joplin/pseuds/joplin
Summary: A Deancas wedding ficlet from the prompt "special occasion shoes!" I decided to bump this one up the queue to publish it today in honor of their VALENTINE'S DAY WEDDING!!!!It's twenty minutes before the wedding, and Dean is just finishing getting ready. There's only one thing missing...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	Special Occasion Shoes- A Deancas Wedding Ficlet

Dean stared at himself in the dusty little floor-length mirror that Ellen had drudged up for the occasion. As he turned to inspect his shirt for wrinkles, he had to admit it: he looked pretty good.

Having decided against wearing his suit jacket ( _ “I bought that at a thrift mart so I could wear it around and lie to people. It’s got no business at my wedding.” _ ) he was dressed down in just a white button up, slacks, and a forest green tie, which had been purchased new last week. ( _ “To bring out your eyes,” _ Cas had smiled so sweetly, handing it over at the store.)

The look was simple, but effective, and now there was just one thing missing.

“Sammy?” he called, not breaking eye contact with himself in the glass.

“Yeah?” Sam called back, popping his head around the back corner of the room.

“Where’s my boots?”

Sam’s mouth fell into the hard line it took on when he was trying to make a split second decision between  _ lie  _ and  _ avoid _ .

“Boots?” he repeated, a pitch-up in his voice. “You came here in your boots, but why would you need those n-”

“-not my  _ work  _ boots, Sammy,” Dean cut him off. If he wanted to avoid, Dean could at least make it difficult. “My  _ boots. _ ”

He could practically hear Sam swallow; glancing up in the mirror, he could absolutely see the panic in Sam’s eyes.

“Oh. Uh. Right. Yeah, your boots. Uh-”

“Sammy.”

“Okay, yeah, um. I thought… it’s just, I thought we agreed… that you were gonna wear your dress shoes?”

“My  _ fed _ shoes?” Dean snapped back, finally turning around “Hell, no! That’s why I ain’t wearing the jacket.”

“They’re just shoes, Dean,” Sam practically begged. “And it’s your  _ wedding _ -”

Dean cut him off there, sensing Sam rev up to argue a mile a minute. He didn’t have time for that today.

“Exactly, Sammy. It’s  _ my _ wedding. I can wear whatever I want, and I want my cowboy boots!”

Sam’s mouth thinned into another line, his shoulders and chest full of an almost comical amount of tension. A beat passed before he said, “Okay. Fine, I’ll go grab them.”

Dean sighed and turned back to the mirror, trying to artfully muss his hair as he heard Sam leave. It was almost perfect when a soft knock fell against the door.

“Dean?”

He whipped around, chest rapidly filling with the warm feeling of static.

“Cas?”

“Sam came out here looking for Claire. He seems to be hoping she’ll take his side in some debate about your attire.”

Dean considered that. “I’m sure she’ll find a way to tell us we’re both wrong.” He could almost hear Cas smiling in response.

“Well,” he heard from Cas’s disembodied voice, “I just snuck over here to tell you that I’m barefoot.”

Dean blinked. “You’re barefoot?”

“Mhmm,” Cas chirped. “You know how I like to be barefoot so I can feel the ground?”   
  


“‘Course,” Dean grinned. “And how’s this carpet treating you?”

“Very well, thank you,” Cas smiled into the door, his head leaned up against it. “But I like it because it makes me feel connected to my surroundings- more like me. And I wanted to feel that way when I married you.”

Hearing those words caused a pleasant hitch in Dean’s breath. They were about to get  _ married.  _ Like,  _ married  _ married.

“I love you,” he said, before he even really realized what he was doing.

A little scuff sound came through the door as Cas tilted his head up along it. “I love  _ you _ ,” he laughed, sounding pleasantly surprised at the sudden change of subject.

Dean felt his ears burn as he joked back, “Well, guess it’s good we got that settled. But, uh, yeah, I wanted to wear my cowboy boots. For kind of the same reason.” He paused for just a moment, but Cas stayed silent, letting him continue. “They’re nice, ya know? But in a- in a  _ me _ way. Sam wants me to wear my fed shoes. But everything about those is fake. And I wanna just be me right now. For… for you. For us. You know? This is for us.”

“It is for us,” Cas smiled. “And I think you’ll look especially handsome in your boots. Of course,” he tilted his head again, “you would look handsome in anything. Or nothing.” (Dean blushed deeper.) “But yes, I think you’ll look very nice in- oh-”

A muffled voice cut Cas off. Dean heard something like laughter, followed by a whispered “Thank you” and a distinct chuckle from Cas.

“Cas, buddy?” Dean tried. Yet another chuckle answered him.

“It seems Sam made the mistake of telling Claire where he was hiding your shoes. Here-” he whispered conspiratorially, carefully opening the door just a crack. There, in the tiny space, appeared Dean’s treasured cowboy boots.

A broad grin swept over his face as he grabbed his shoes with one and caught Cas’s fingers in the other. “Heh, thanks,” he laughed quietly. Cas squeezed his hand in answer, and for a moment, they just stayed like that.

It was Cas’s soft voice that eventually broke the silence with a “Well,” and Dean could tell, somehow, that he was grinning at the floor. “I guess I’ll see you out there.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, his whole chest fit to burst. “See you real soon, sunshine.”

“I love you.”

Leaning down so as not to pull Cas into view, Dean brushed his lips across his fiancee’s knuckles and let them linger there. He didn’t know this, but Cas had brought his free hand up to rest on the door, as though he could hold Dean’s face through the wood.

Tears were starting in Dean’s eyes, and though he tried to wipe them away, they fell in earnest. He didn’t know this either, but he would be crying again in about twenty minutes (and that time around, Cas would be able reach up and cradle Dean’s cheek, wiping the tears with his thumb; Claire would immortalize this moment in a photograph, which now sits on their mantle).

“Always,” he answered, and he slipped on his shoes, more ready than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading, and please feel free to send prompts! y'all have been leaving the sweetest comments on my other pieces, and I hope you know they absolutely make my day! happy valentine's day to all of you, my loves xoxo


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